


Mama Who Bore Me

by lucewrites



Series: I'm Finally Where I'm Meant to Be [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Domestic Fluff, Draco Malfoy in the Muggle World, Ella the Intern - Freeform, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, F/M, Family Drama, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Good Draco Malfoy, M/M, Stage Manager Draco Malfoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:49:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27527170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucewrites/pseuds/lucewrites
Summary: It was official: Draco married an idiot.Oh, Harry was a beautiful idiot with a kind heart and an excellent cock, but he was an idiot all the same.-Or, Ginny comes to visit.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, past Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley - Relationship
Series: I'm Finally Where I'm Meant to Be [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1848361
Comments: 8
Kudos: 202





	1. Chapter 1

It was official: Draco married an idiot.

Oh, Harry was a beautiful idiot with a kind heart and an excellent cock, but he was an idiot all the same.

It all started when he came home one night, weary in his bedraggled Auror robes, and informed Draco his ex-wife asked to see the children.

This was all fine and good - though it was ultimately the children’s choice, Ginny had a right to see her kids - until Draco had the sudden realization that Ginny might not even know Harry had remarried.

And that...that was something that induced a cold-blooded sense of terror almost equivalent to the fear he felt when he learned the Dark Lord would be living with him.

Ella picked up on his anxiety the minute he stepped into his office the following morning, clutching his coffee the way he had clutched his mother’s hand on her deathbed.

“You look like shit,” she said.

Draco rolled his eyes and huffed, “Good morning, Ella. I see you are tactless as ever.”

Ella winced. Draco tried not to take too much pleasure from it. “What’s got your knickers in a twist?”

Draco let out a dramatic sigh, tossing his bag in the corner and plopping ungraciously in his desk chair. Distantly, he thought his mother would have been appalled. “My husband’s ex-wife will be in town on holiday for the weekend and wants to see the kids.”

“Wasn’t Ginny on tour with the Harpies or something?”

“Or something.”

“Oh. Well, what’s the problem in wanting to see her children?”

Draco rolled his eyes and turned to face Ella. Her long black hair was twisted in a messy updo and she was wearing glasses instead of her usual contacts. “She wasn’t around much when they were growing up, and she didn’t want custody when she and Harry divorced five years ago, so she hasn’t seen the kids since.”

Ella frowned. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, why are you so wound up about it?”

Draco sighed. “For one thing, they’re my kids too, now, and I don’t want any of them to get hurt.”

“And the other?”

Draco didn’t say anything, mulling over the words. Finally, he said, “I’m not sure if she knows Harry and I are married.”

Ella gasped. “No way.”

“Well, it’s not surprising considering she’s been away for so long.”

“Yes, but…”

Draco sighed. “I know,” he whined. “She hates me. Always has, even after I grew up and stopped being such an ass.”

“I don’t know about that.”

Draco gave her a pointed glare and continued. “My point is that now she’s going to find out, and think Harry daft for marrying a Death Eater.”

“But that’s not who you are anymore.”

“Oh, darling, didn’t you hear? Once you take the Mark, it doesn’t go away.”

Ella rolled her eyes. “Okay well, you got that covered up, for one thing. And you have changed.”

It was true. A few years ago, Draco had gone into a muggle tattoo shop and covered the damn thing in a bunch of Narcissus flowers that trailed up his forearm.

And Draco definitely wasn’t as much of a little shit as he was in his formative school years.

“Ginny doesn’t care about that,” he pouted.

“Well, then change her mind.”

Draco gave Ella a wry look. “She’s more stubborn than Harry, darling. I doubt I’ll be able to convince her of anything.”

“Oh.”

Draco just hummed, then sighed. “Oh, indeed. Now, we need to email the actors who auditioned for the show and tell them who got in.”

Ella nodded, and they got to work.

The thing is, Draco never hated Ginny or the Weasleys. He couldn’t, especially now that he and Harry were married, but in the beginning, he was just jealous of them.

Despite what anyone in the Sacred Twenty-Eight thought, the Weasleys were a genuine family. Molly and Arthur were faithful to each other. No child of theirs had been disowned for bringing shame onto the family name, and Draco...all Draco wanted was a family like that.

From a young age, he knew his parents disliked each other, that their marriage was arranged. He knew if he ever came out to his father, he would be disowned and singed off the family tree just like his cousin Sirius and Aunt Andromeda.

With the Weasleys, there was no risk of any of that.

Now that he and Ron were old enough to know they were both shits at the time they had met, they got along just fine. Draco wouldn’t go so far as to call them friends - too much damage had been done in that respect to ever be able to call each other friends - but they could sit down for a pint and have a friendly conversation.

Ginny wasn’t there for any of that. She hated it when he and Harry had become friends the year Draco and Astoria were to be married. She hated the very mention of his name.

Draco couldn’t imagine her being happy for him and Harry.

She should be happy for them, Draco thought. They were happy, and in love, and they had found anything they could ever wish for in each other.

But what about the children? Jamie had more memories of Ginny being motherly, but Albus and Lily only remember her being mostly absent. What would they think of her asking to see them?

What would Scorpius think? He wasn’t Ginny’s son; she had no attachment to him. Would she treat him badly because he’s a Malfoy?

There was no way to tell.

Draco stewed on this all day until he got home.

He arrived before Harry did, and as soon as he set his bag down in its spot by the door, he headed straight for the display case that held his pipes and tobacco.

He grabbed them and went to go sit on the balcony, expertly lighting his pipe, puffing once, twice, thrice, and exhaling. He looked out at the city, at all the muggles buzzing about like bees in a hive. What simple lives they all must lead.

Draco sighed and slumped in the little loveseat he was sitting in.

“Rough day?” a voice spoke up from behind him.

Draco jumped, whipping around to face who was at the door. He glared when he saw it was just Harry leaning against the doorway, smirking. Petulantly, he took a puff of his pipe. “A little bit,” he said, exhaling slowly.

Harry sat next to him, pressed up against him. “Tell me about it?”

Draco took another puff, then leaned over to tap the bowl of his pipe against the cork on the coffee table in front of them. “I was thinking about what you said last night. About Ginny. Did you write to the children?”

Harry frowned, then nodded. “Yeah. McGonagall said it was fine with her; she’ll leave the decision to the kids. And the kids said it was up to us.”

Draco sighed. “She’s their mother. They can decide what they want.”

Harry hummed. “That’s what I told them. No response yet.”

As if on cue, Scorpius’ owl, Ulysses, flew past and landed on the coffee table. Harry plucked the letter from his beak, tearing it open in one fell swoop.

Draco leaned over Harry’s shoulder. “What does it say?”

His husband sighed. “They said they’ll come home and see her.”

Draco slumped back in the seat and groaned. “Fuck.”

“Yep.”

“Does she even know we’re married?”

Harry’s head whipped back to look at Draco, his eyes wide. “What?”

Draco rolled his eyes. “You heard me.”

Harry blinked. “Um.”

“Oh, Harry, you didn’t tell her?” Draco whined.

“I didn’t know I was supposed to! We aren’t married anymore!.”

“No, you’re married to me. That’s the problem.”

Harry looked like he’d just been punched.

Draco quickly went over what he said and winced. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“No, that’s only what you said.” Harry still looked wounded, and Draco was scrambling.

Desperately, he grabbed his husband’s hands, tracing over his fingers reverently. “Harry, that’s not what I meant. I just meant you married me. Out of all the people you could have married after your divorce, you picked me.”

“I’d do it again, yunno,” Harry muttered, and Draco shot him a fond look.

“I know. And I’m thankful every day for that. But, Harry,” Draco was still playing with Harry’s fingers. “Ginny still sees me as the enemy. She always will, I think, and I can’t blame her for that. I just don’t want her to treat you or the children any worse for it.”

Harry sighed. “You know this is going to be tough either way. Doesn’t matter if I’m married to you or not.”

Draco nodded. “I know. I don’t want to see you hurt, Harry. Or Jamie, or Lily, or Albus, or Scorpius. You’re my family.”

Harry wrapped his arms around Draco and murmured “You’re my family too.”

They were silent for a few moments, there holding each other on the balcony until Draco drew in a shuddering breath. “Do you think…” He trailed off, unable to fully articulate it.

“Hm?”

“Do you think Scorpius and I should go somewhere while Ginny is visiting?” Draco broke away from his husband’s arms anxiously, taking a quick drag from his pipe. “She’s not his mother; she has no attachment to him. She surely won’t want to see me.”

Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Wouldn’t that seem an awful lot like running away?”

Draco rolled his eyes and spat into the spittoon laying on the floor in front of him. “That, my love, would be your typical Gryffindor lack of self-preservation talking.”

Harry huffed, exasperated. “I’m serious, Draco. You’re my husband. She’s going to be here the entire weekend, and you live here too. You’re bound to run into each other eventually.”

“Scorpius and I can make ourselves scarce while she’s visiting, then. She won’t be spending the night, so we can leave after breakfast and return after dinner. Besides, there’s plenty for me to do at the theatre and all my colleagues love him.”

Harry gave him a look. “Draco.”

“What?” he responded petulantly, dumping the ash in the bowl of the pipe in the little bowl and knocking it against the cork. He set the pipe down, taking in a deep breath.

“You can’t just spend both days at the theatre with Scorpius. When will the children see you? Or me, for that matter.”

Draco leaned in and gave his husband a peck on the lips before pulling back with a smirk. “You and I will see each other in the night, darling.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “And the children? They’ll want to see you too.”

Draco sighed. “Yes, I suppose they will, won’t they?”

“You are their stepfather. And you’ve been more of a parent to them in the last two years than Ginny has ever been.”

Draco smiled a bright, soft thing. “Really?”

“Of course. They love you.”

Draco shifted so he could lay against Harry’s chest. “And I love them. I just don’t want to take away their time with their mother - I know my being there will make her feel unsafe and more likely to lash out.”

“Look, I get it. I just - I need you here. For me.”

Draco craned his neck back to look Harry in the eye. The other man looked stressed, tired. “Fine,” Draco murmured with a sigh. “You owe me.”

Harry grinned and kissed the top of Draco’s head. “Thank you, love.”

Draco just huffed and cuddled deeper into his husband’s chest.

Owe him, Harry did. The night before Ginny was due to arrive, the kids all came through the floo. His darling husband wasn’t there to greet the children like usual since some emergency case came up and he had to leave only five minutes before the children arrived.

And Draco was fine with that, honestly. His work wouldn’t get too hectic until near the end of the month, and God knew he’d missed so many of the children’s’ things because of that, so it was only fair he take care of the children now.

He just felt wholly unprepared to help them with Ginny.

Surely this is how most people felt when interacting with the estranged mothers of their stepchildren?

Draco herded everyone into the living room and sat them all down before taking a deep breath and sitting down himself. “I trust you all had a good week so far?”

The children each gave muffled replies, looking exactly as Draco felt.

He sighed. “Are you ready to see Ginny tomorrow?”

Albus rolled his eyes, looking every inch the sullen teenager he was. “Why did she decide to come to see us now?”

James elbowed his brother in the side, receiving a swat to the back of the head in return. “She’s our mother, dumbass. She wants to see us.”

It was Lily who spoke this time. “She hasn’t wanted to see us since she left.”

Draco’s mouth opened, then shut. “I’m sure that isn’t the case, darling.”

Albus scoffed. “Sure it isn’t.”

Scorpius looked unsure of what to say, silent in his plush chair by the fireplace.

Draco sighed again. “Ginny is your mother. She wants to see you.”

Lily gave Draco a sad, wide-eyed look. “Then why did she leave?”

And what was Draco to say to that? Ginny had her reasons for leaving, none of which he knew. How was he to explain that?

He wished Harry were here.

Finally, he murmured, “I’m not sure, sweetling. Everyone has to leave at some point, in one way or another, and often we don’t know why.”

Scorpius, ever the perceptive one, came over and sat on the arm of Draco’s chair, offering a silent hand to hold.

Draco continued, a little louder, “When they do leave, it hurts, and often you think you’re better off having not known them at all, to save yourself from that hurt, yes?” He looked them each in the eye.

They nodded, small signs of guilt on their faces.

“But then you think of all the good memories you have and realize their leaving isn’t so bad after all,” he finished. Then, he gave each of his stepchildren a stern look. “I want you to know I’m not trying to make you feel guilty by saying this. You are all entitled to your feelings about this situation, and that is perfectly normal and valid.”

Draco took a breath. “I also want you to know that as someone who has lost his mother for good, I would give anything to see her again. Just as I know Astoria or Lily Potter would have given anything to see their sons again.”

The children seemed to soften at that.

“I just don’t understand why she’d wait so long to see us. Or why she’s never asked to see us before this,” Albus muttered, scowling at the floor.  
Draco sighed. It seemed he would be doing a lot of that this weekend. “I’m sure she has her reasons, darling.”

Harry decided to make his appearance at that moment, striding to Draco’s side and plopping a quick kiss atop his head. “Ginny does have her reasons, little one. And we will find them out in the morning, but for now, all of you little nargles need to go to bed.”

Harry was met with a series of groans and protestations, to which Draco snickered, but Harry was firm. “I’m serious, guys, go to bed. We’ll see you in the morning.”

Draco nodded, still laughing softly. “Go. We love you all.”

They were met with a series of “love you’s” as all the little Potters left the room. Scorpius hung back, though, looking for all the world like someone killed his kitten.

“What is it, darling?” Draco asked. He felt his husband’s arm drape over his shoulders and leaned into the embrace, still looking at his son.

“Is it true, what you said about my mother?”

Oh.

Draco drew in a shuddering breath. Truthfully, he and Scorpius had never really talked in depth about Astoria. Scorpius had never expressed interest in learning about his mother, and Draco always suspected it was partially because his son didn’t want him to feel bad.

He should have seen this coming.

Scorpius knew the basics of it, of course. How Draco and Astoria only married so Draco would have an heir. How, from an outsider’s perspective, it was more like a business exchange than anything else.

Scorpius never asked about Astoria, so he didn’t know Draco had truly loved her, even if it was only as a friend.

Draco came to the sudden realization that he fucked up.

“Scorpius,” he said, reaching for his son. Gently, he pulled Scorpius in his lap like he did when his son was still a small boy waking from a nightmare. “Of course it’s true.”

He felt his husband gently squeeze his shoulders in comfort, then leave the room.

“Then why didn’t you ever tell me?”

And, oh, what a loaded question that was. “You never asked, darling. I didn’t know you wanted to know about her.”

“I did,” Scorpius mumbled, and Draco’s heart broke.  
“What do you want to know?” God, he should have had this conversation with his boy years ago.

“Did she love me?”

Draco wanted to cry, to scream as he had when she passed. “She loved you more than anything.”

“Did you love her?” Scorpius sounded so much smaller than the fourteen-year-old he was.

Draco kissed his forehead. “She was one of my dearest friends. I loved her in that way.”

Scorpius nodded, looking pensive.

“You know,” Draco began, lost in thought, “Your mother was the first person I told when I figured out I was gay.”

“Really?”

Draco hummed in affirmation. “I’d had an on and off relationship with a muggle man before I proposed to her.” He paused. “Granted, I broke things off long before that, and we lost contact after the war, but he was my first love. And I didn’t want to begin a marriage on a lie.”

“What’d she say?”

“She said she wanted me to be happy, and that once we had a child we could get a divorce.”

“Would she have wanted to see me?”

“Oh, Scorpius,” Draco said. “She would have seen you whenever she wanted. And she’s still watching over us, you know.”

Scorpius looked up. “Really?”

“Obviously. She’s up there looking out for us, making sure we’re happy.” Draco smiled softly. “She only ever wanted that for us.”

“Oh.”

Draco just hummed, then gently patted his son’s side. “Alright, time for you to go to bed. We’ve a long day tomorrow.”

Scorpius rolled his eyes. “Dad, I’m not a kid anymore.”

And oh, did that send a pang of something unpleasant in Draco’s heart. “I know,” he said. “But you still need to go rest.”

Scorpius sighed and scrambled off of Draco’s lap, heading for his room. Before he entered the hallway, though, he paused. “I love you, dad.”

Draco smiled. “I love you too.”

With that, Scorpius scurried off to his room and Draco sighed, sinking into his chair.

If today was any sort of sign for how this weekend was going to go, he wanted no part of it. He hated the children’s doubt when it came to Ginny. No child should ever have to deal with that.

He hated how he couldn’t magically make it all better.

That must be the curse of being a parent, Draco mused in his chair. One can’t protect their children from every heartbreak.

It was a depressing thought.

Was this how his mother felt during the war? When she couldn’t protect him from the horrors that lay in the corners of Malfoy Manor?

Was this how she felt now, watching helplessly somewhere in the heavens? Was this how Astoria felt, watching Draco explain how much she loved Scorpius?

Was this how Lily Potter felt for most of Harry’s life?

Draco sighed for what felt like the thousandth time that night, easing himself off the chair and into the kitchen so he could brew a cuppa before bed.

He did not envy his family’s matriarchs if this was what they felt all those years. He did, however, relate.

And all Draco could do was be there for his children, he thought while waiting for the kettle to boil. He laid a teabag in a mug and rested it on the counter.

Admittedly, there weren’t many things Draco would face head-on, as his husband was so apt to do. But for his children, he’d do anything if only to spare them any pain.

The kettle boiled, and Draco poured the water into his mug before heading to his bedroom.

Harry was already in bed when Draco came through the doorway, reading a book. He looked up from his book and smiled at Draco as he entered the room, the same bright, carefree smile Draco fell in love with many years ago.

Draco sighed again, and rested his mug on his bedside table, before ungracefully plopping face first on the bed. “I’m not sure I’m going to survive this,” he said into the duvet.

Harry chuckled softly. “I didn’t hear that, love.”

Draco turned his face so his mouth was free. “I said, I don’t think I’m going to survive this weekend.”

Harry fondly rolled his eyes. “You will.”

Draco groaned. “I swear to god, Harry, you do not understand the wrath I felt when I had to explain to the kids that Ginny actually loved them.”

Harry gave a wry smile. “I’m sure I can relate.”

Draco sat up in one swift motion that left his head spinning. “Honestly, sometimes I wish she would just leave us alone.”

Harry sighed. “Me too, love.”

Draco narrowed his eyes. “I wish some other things, too, but you wouldn’t approve of them, o Savior of mine.”

His husband rolled his eyes and patted the sheets beside him.

“I’m serious,” Draco said as he slid under the covers to cuddle into Harry’s side. “Very Dark Arts-ish and Slytherin things. Things my father would approve of.”

Harry just hummed, gently raking a hand through Draco’s hair. “You know you’re as scary as a small dog, right?”

Draco scoffed. “I am not.”

“You are. You’ve grown tame in your old age, love. Just accept it.”

“Whatever.” Draco paused, his voice taking a more serious tone. “I mean it, Harry. They shouldn’t have to deal with her bullshit.”

“She is their mother, darling.”

“I know, and I don’t care. Anyone that makes the children feel so sad is not, and will never be in my good graces. Mother or not.”

Harry drew in a breath so deep Draco could feel it. “I know, love.”

Draco sighed, defeated. “I just don’t want them to hurt.”

Harry scoffed. “How you were ever a Slytherin is beyond me. You care too much.”

“That, my love,” Draco tutted, “is an acquired trait.”

Harry shook his head. “No. It’s always been there.”

Draco huffed, but let it be, instead nuzzling further into his husband’s chest.

“You know,” Harry mused, lost in thought. “I think there’s only so much we can do, as parents, for our children. Eventually, they just have to -” he lifted his hand from Draco’s hair and made a fleeting gesture. “ - make their own choices.”

“I know that.” Draco sighed. “Do you think we’ve screwed them up?”

Harry barked out a laugh at that, too loud in their near-silent room. “No more than your parents or my aunt and uncle did us.”

He hummed, then laughed softly, shaking his head all the while. “We’re so fucked up.”

Lovingly, Harry nuzzled his face into Draco’s hair. “That we are, my love.”

They both sighed.

Distantly, Draco wondered if they were good parents since they’d had virtually nobody to copy.

When he voiced that, Harry just said, “I think we parent with love, and that’s what matters.”

Draco supposed his husband was right.

Briefly, he was envious of his children. There was no love in his family when he grew up, just stolen moments between him and his mother when Lucius wasn’t around.

He didn’t like to think about Harry’s childhood, though he knew the only love he had received was from Molly Weasley and Hagrid when he was 11.

His children were so lucky they were raised in a house full of love, and he was so immeasurably glad they would never have to come to that realization.

With that thought, Draco reached over to turn off the lamp at his bedside.

He’d save his fretting over Ginny’s arrival for tomorrow, he thought, curling into Harry’s side and slowly drifting to sleep.

Truthfully, Draco knew he was probably overreacting in his anxiety over Ginny’s visit that morning.

He knew that people changed - he certainly had from the time he knew the youngest Weasley; maybe she had too. But he also knew that perhaps Ginny had the greatest ability to affect their family.

Draco didn’t know what he’d do with himself if the next day didn’t go well.

So, he got up the morning Ginny was due to arrive and proceeded as normal. He brewed himself a cuppa and made breakfast for himself, Harry, and the children, then went outside to have his morning smoke and annotate the script for his theatre’s next show.

They would be putting on Spring Awakening this season, and he couldn’t decide if he wanted to laugh or cry at the irony.

Eventually, he would have to enlist Ella’s help to email the people who auditioned and inform them who made the cast list or not. He’d have to get the tech-heads together and make a shopping list, and then undoubtedly yell at them for not submitting what they needed by the deadline. He’d have to come up with that deadline, too.

It was exhausting, exhilarating work, he thought as he exhaled smoke on the balcony.

Draco sighed, and stood up, walking back indoors and putting his pipe and tobacco away.

He made the rounds, checking on the children still asleep in their bedrooms before heading to his and Harry’s room, only to find his husband still asleep in their bed. At some point, Harry had managed to cuddle Draco’s pillow as if it were Draco himself, and he still had one arm draped loosely around it. His dark hair was splayed across his pillow, his face half-obscured from view, but Draco knew the fine wrinkles would be softened in sleep.

And damn if Harry hadn’t aged well, Draco thought, sitting on his side of the bed and gently raking his fingers through the other man’s hair.

Sometimes, Draco didn’t believe this was his life. That he and Harry were actually married, that he’d gotten this lucky. If he was being honest, Draco wasn’t sure if he deserved it, for surely he had to atone for all the things he’s done at some point, right?

But then he realized that maybe he had already paid for all his sins. Maybe, just maybe, this was his happy ending after all these years of hardship.

If he could survive this weekend, that is.

At this point, Draco had come to terms with Ginny’s impending arrival, and he desperately tried not to let it loom over his shoulders. He didn’t want her to affect his mood around the children, especially since they were moody enough already.

Draco wondered where they received their volatile emotions. Harry was bullheaded, stubborn, and authoritative, but he rarely showed any sort of feeling around others. Draco always chalked it up to his hero complex; Harry couldn’t play the savior everyone adored if he cried all the time.

By that logic, the children had to have picked up the way they display their emotions from their mother, which…

Well.

Draco didn’t really know what that would mean for him.

And wasn’t that a scary thought? Draco was someone who planned and predicted everything by nature - it’s why he was so good at his job, why he survived the damn war against the Dark Lord. Not being able to predict Ginny’s reaction to seeing him with Harry - with her children, and being unable to plan accordingly was terrifying to him.

Draco sighed and carded his hand through his husband’s hair once more, before getting up. He left their room, Harry still asleep in bed, and went back to the kitchen. He perched on one of the barstools lining the island and plucked his phone from his pocket, absentmindedly scrolling through Instagram. He heard someone clunking about in their bedroom upstairs.

And then someone knocked on the front door.

Draco froze, his phone clattering to the countertop, loud in the silence of the kitchen. Belatedly, he realized he was shaking.

He stood up.

The thing about the front door was that there were two windows on either side of it. They let in a nice amount of natural light into the foyer, but they also served the purpose of allowing someone to check and see who is at the door, before letting them inside.

Sure enough, Ginny Weasly was waiting on the doorstep.

Draco looked down at his pyjamas. He was wearing one of Harry’s old Gryffindor jumpers and his pants had little dancing penguins on them.

Was he to answer the door looking like this?

He heaved a dramatic sigh, bracing himself to answer the door when he heard footsteps behind him.

“I’ll get it, love.”

Draco turned to find Harry already dressed, looking sheepish. He raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t know she’d be arriving so early.”

Harry scratched the back of his neck. “Er, yeah. I only got her text just now. She must have apparated.”

“It’s seven thirty in the bloody morning! The children aren’t even up yet.”

Harry sighed and stepped up to wrap his arms around Draco. “I know, love. I think she wants to talk to me about something.”

Draco huffed. “What the fuck could she want now?”

“I dunno, love. We’ll find out soon, I guess.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Whatever. I am going to get properly dressed. Breakfast is on stasis in the kitchen. Your coffee’s in the pot.”

Harry nodded, gently kissing the top of Draco’s head. “I love you.”

Draco sighed and broke away. “I love you, too.”

He heard the door open, and a shrill, feminine voice greeting his husband as he walked to their room. Rolling his eyes, he made a bee-line for their grand wardrobe, shuffling through his shirts and trousers. Draco wanted to look every inch the smug new husband he was.

He settled on an emerald green turtleneck, tucking it into a pair of black denims cut to perfection. He pulled his flaxen hair into a messy knot atop his head and switched his glasses out for contacts, looking himself over in the mirror before deciding he looked good enough.

He could do this, he thought, briskly walking out of the room. It was only Ginny Weasely.

It was only the mother of his step-children, the woman his husband was once married to.

Draco winced at the thought. He shouldn’t feel intimidated. Harry and Ginny’s relationship was over long before they divorced, and Harry was married to him now. That should be enough reassurance.

So why did Draco feel so wary?

It felt as if all the anxiety he felt over the last week had culminated in this moment.

He desperately wished Harry hadn’t convinced him to stay.

He sighed, announcing himself as he entered the sitting room.

The conversation stopped.

Ginny looked well, since the last time he had seen her.

Back then, she looked weary, tired. Granted, that was right after the war ended, and they were all learning to cope with the horrors they had faced, but still. Her typically fiery hair was dull, and her freckles had faded significantly. Her usually warm brown eyes were cold and hard, and Draco didn’t know what to make of it, then.

Now, it seemed as if she had gotten her mojo back.

Her hair was falling down her shoulders in a sheet, her eyes bright and full of warmth. She had a tan, and so many freckles dotted her face it looked like a galaxy.

Draco gave a wry smile, and sat next to Harry on the loveseat. “Ginevra.”

Ginny’s eyes were wide, shock painted clearly on her face.

Harry winced beside him. “Ginny, I’m sure you’ve met my husband, Draco.”

Draco offered a sarcastic bow. “How do you do?”

Her jaw dropped, eyes bugging out. She sputtered. “I’m sorry, what?”

Draco tried to suppress a grin at her shock. “Didn’t you hear?”

Harry nudged him with his ebow, shooting Draco a wide-eyed look. “We’ve been married for about two years now.”

Ginny’s jaw dropped.

Draco gave her a smug grin, crossing one long leg over the other. “Do you need a minute, darling?”

“Draco.” Harry gave him a pleading look.

Draco rolled his eyes and sighed, standing up. “I’ll go wake the children. They’re likely still sleeping.”

Harry nodded, grabbing Draco’s hand and squeezing gently. Draco took Harry’s hand in his and kissed it softly.

“I can always take Scorpius and go to the theater,” he murmured soft enough so Ginny couldn’t hear.

Harry shook his head. “I need you here.”

Draco nodded and left the room.

Well, he thought to himself, at least she didn’t start throwing hexes. Draco doubted that would be a pleasant thing for the children to wake up to, and he personally didn’t feel like handling any more family drama than was necessary.

Hell, he was still debating whether or not he should send an ‘SOS’ text to Ella and have her fake some emergency for the theatre.

But Harry needed him.

Truthfully, Harry was the only reason Draco didn’t open the door in his pajamas only to shut it in Genevra’s face and tell the wretch to leave.

He sighed and stopped at Scorpius’ door first. He gently knocked and let himself in, only to find Albus and Scorpius sitting cross-legged across from each other on the bed, deep in conversation.

Draco cleared his throat and crossed his arms, leaning on the door jamb. “Care to share with the class what you’re whispering so fervently about?”

Albus and Scorpius froze, shooting each other frantic looks before synchronously turning to face Draco.

Draco raised an eyebrow, internally shuddering. The boys looked like every set of twins in every horror flick ever when they did that.

Scorpius gave him a sheepish look. “We were talking about Quidditch.”

“Sure,” Draco said, nodding. “Well, Ginny has arrived, so do try not to let your conversation about Quidditch hold you up.”

Draco left the room, then, leaving the boys to continue their conversation.

Quickly, he woke Lily and James up and informed them of their mother’s arrival, before ducking into his and Harry’s room to take a few fortifying breaths.

He wondered if it was too early to have a finger of firewhisky. Draco shook himself internally at that. Leave it to Ginny Weasly to drive him to daydrink.

God, It wasn’t even eight-o’clock yet.

Draco sighed and went to join Harry and Ginny in the living room once more.

He sat down next to Harry, cuddling into his husband’s side for comfort.

Okay, maybe it wasn’t only for comfort.

Harry absentmindedly, wrapped his arm around Draco and Draco sighed again, before actively tuning into his husband’s conversation.

“- I just think it would be fun for me to take them to travel a bit. Get them away from England,” Ginny was saying. She unsubtly glanced at Draco.

Harry nodded, a frown on his face. “Why now?”

Ginny paused. “What?”

“Why do you want to take them now? Why not earlier, when we first divorced?”

Ginny looked affronted. Draco tried not to take too much joy from that.

“I just thought they might enjoy it better now they are older,” she said.

Draco winced. That was no way to garner favor from Harry. He sighed.

Unsubtly, Ginny glared at him.

Draco returned her look and said, “What my darling husband is too polite to say is why do you want to spend time with them now when you have never wanted to before?”

Ginny looked affronted, and Draco tried not to take too much joy from it.

“How dare you,” she seethed, “insinuate that.”

Draco gave her a pitying look. “Honey, I didn’t insinuate anything.”

Ginny turned such a remarkable shade of puce it was hard for Draco not to laugh. “Well, I -”

“Look, Genevra,” Draco interrupted. “If I thought you were thinking about the children upon making this request, I wouldn’t be such a bitch about it. But they’re my kids, too, and as such I need to look out for them.”

“I’m sorry, I just never thought I’d see a Death Eater look out for anyone but himself.”

It was that moment that the children entered the room.

Draco could feel the blood rush to his face.

They never really mentioned his standing in the war, nowadays. Harry and Draco had discussed it heavily when they first reconnected, if only to see the other’s perspective on it. But once they had finished discussing the war, they were done.

Harry and he had decided that once the kids covered the war in History of Magic, they would sit down and tell the children about their respective experiences. But that time had not yet come, and so the children didn’t know.

Until now.

Draco sucked in a long breath. Harry rubbed his shoulder comfortingly. “Ah, yes,” he said slowly. “The famous Death Eater son of Lucius Malfoy. The one who should be rotting in Azkaban with his father’s corpse, instead marrying the Saviour of the Wizarding World. I’m sure that’s what you’re insinuating now, yes?”

Ginny’s smug smile was scathing. “I’m not insinuating anything.”

Draco rolled his eyes, a bitter smile briefly crossing his face. “Right,” he said, gracefully unfurling himself and standing up. He kissed Harry’s forehead, murmuring, “I’ll be at the theatre. I’ve some things to get done before the first rehearsal on Friday.”

Harry nodded, silent, a frown marring his face.

And Draco left.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This turned out far longer and just a tad angstier than I expected, so fair warning. Thank you so much for reading!

Draco flinched when he heard the door click shut behind him. The sound was worse than a slam, quiet but no less dramatic. No less painful. 

He sighed, aching for a pipe. After everything that had happened in his living room, he needed something to take the edge off. Perhaps a pack of cigarettes would do. Draco didn’t smoke cigarettes much. He started smoking them during the war, but he broke the habit after Astoria got pregnant. 

Astoria. 

God, what would she say about this? Draco could just hear it. She would laugh and adoringly say he deserved it for how much of a prick he was back then. He would probably agree. 

Astoria, Draco knew, would have been a much better mother than Ginny. He kicked himself for thinking it, but it was true. Astoria loved Scorpius with all she was. She would have supported him and his happiness, been there for him. 

Unlike Ginny. 

Draco sighed again and began walking to the corner store at the end of their block. He probably shouldn’t be comparing Astoria to Ginny, he thought. The two were incomparable, and, in the end, only one was alive. 

His heels clicked against the linoleum as he picked up a box of smokes and a cheap plastic lighter. It had smiley faces on it.

How would he explain everything to the kids, he wondered. Draco knew Scorpius likely had heard of some of his past - the other children probably had as well, but, if they had, they never brought it up. Draco thought it was to respect his privacy, even though he and Harry had long ago established an open-door policy for any questions they had. 

When Harry and Draco had first gotten together - when they knew they were serious - they decided one day they would sit the kids down and discuss their respective pasts. Harry had anticipated it would come up after James learned it in History of Magic, but Draco always had a feeling it would be earlier. Guess he was right. 

Despite having a vague idea of what happened, the children wouldn’t learn about the war until their seventh year. When Draco asked Harry why, he said it was because, by that time, they would be emotionally mature enough to realize that it was their parents who fought. 

Draco didn’t know how to feel about it, but as long as history wasn’t going to repeat itself anytime soon, he supposed he could accept it. 

He sighed again as he opened the door to the theatre. He would probably wind up chainsmoking and sending out emails until he knew Ginny would be out of his house. 

He lit the first cigarette while kicking open the door to his office. 

Draco liked his office. He supposed he’d have to since he ran and hid there whenever he was feeling too much, too fast. As such, his office was comforting, cast in the buttery light emanating from the Tiffany lamp on his desk. It held all the basic amenities: he had an electric kettle sitting next to the lamp and a couch laden with throw pillows and blankets pushed up against the far wall. There were pictures of his family and leftover programs hanging from the ceiling on little string lights. It was his home away from home. 

He slumped onto the couch, arranging his limbs so he was mostly laying down with the hand holding his cigarette dangling to the side. 

He wondered what someone would see if they walked in to see him like this. It wasn’t likely; the only people who were here more than he was were the build crew and various maintenance workers. 

Draco sighed and took a drag of his cigarette, morose. He was ashamed enough of his actions during the war as is; he didn’t need Ginny Weasley of all people telling him he fucked up. He knew that. He accepted it. He moved on. 

He couldn’t do much else. 

Draco didn’t like thinking about it, either. When he and Harry had first become friends, they hashed everything out so exhaustively they no longer needed to discuss it, save for the nights when the PTSD got the better of them. 

On those occasions, they’ll go out on their balcony and sit together. Draco will have a smoke, Harry will clutch his cup of tea like a vice. They never really talked, unless one of them needed to cry, or rage, or rant. 

He was in the middle of taking another drag of his cigarette when someone knocked on his door. 

“Draco?” Harry called.

Draco grunted and flicked the ash onto the concrete floor. He’d vanish it later if he remembered. 

He heard footsteps coming closer and turned his head to face Harry’s favorite pair of worn dragonhide work boots. Draco would have to get his husband some new jeans soon, he thought; these were fraying at the edges. 

“Oh, Draco,” Harry murmured. He sounded sad. 

Draco sighed and took another drag, flicking ash on the floor again before croaking, “Is she gone?” 

Harry sighed and sat in front of Draco on the floor, carefully maneuvering around the pile of ash to his left. “Yeah.” 

Draco hummed, cigarette hanging from his lips. He took it in hand once more. “Good. Honestly, Harry,” he sighed, “I’m so glad you divorced her and married me. She’s a right bitch, that one.” 

Harry didn’t say anything, instead opting to pluck the cigarette from between Draco’s fingers and taking a drag of his own. “She can be,” he said on the exhale, smoke pouring from his nostrils.

Draco snickered to himself before stealing the cigarette back. It was almost to the filter at this point. “I mean, so can I. It seems you have a type, my love.” 

Harry chuckled and shook his head. “Small people with a big attitude?” 

Draco scoffed, vanishing the cigarette and the ash before sitting up to light a new one. “I’m not small where it matters, darling.” 

Harry laughed outright this time. “No, you’re right.” 

Draco hummed and lit the next cigarette. 

“Was this your plan then?” 

Draco hummed, questioning. “What do you mean?” 

Harry gestured to the cigarette. “Come down here and chain-smoke until you felt better.” 

“It’s almost nine in the morning. What else am I supposed to do? Day drink?” Draco paused. “Actually,” he mused. “If I were to do that, I’d get properly sloshed.” 

“Ah.” 

“Indeed.” 

Harry didn’t say anything, but Draco could tell he was just mulling over his words. Finally, he whispered, “You saw this coming, didn’t you?” 

Draco blinked, absentmindedly flicking the ash off of his cigarette. 

At his silence, Harry continued. “And I made you stay.” 

Oh. So that’s what this was about. “Don’t let your guilt complex take over now, Harry,” he said, sternly. “I made my choice. You didn’t force me to do anything.” 

Harry scoffed, shaking his head. 

“No,” Draco reinforced. “I knew this was coming and I knew exactly what I was signing up for when I married you. Don’t you feel guilty when I knew full well what could happen.” 

“I just...You’ve been through so much shit, Draco. You shouldn’t have to do it again for me.” 

He rolled his eyes, cupping Harry’s face with the fingers that weren’t holding the cigarette. “I have. Which is why I know I can handle your bitchy ex-wife. How did that go, anyway? After I left.” 

“It was so bad I had to send the kids to their rooms so they wouldn’t hear any more of it.” 

Draco groaned. “They’re going to be insufferable when we get home, then.” 

Harry nodded. “I didn’t explain anything, either. After I kicked Ginny out, I told them I was going to find you and left right after. I think Scorpius was worried.” 

“He always worries,” Draco said, taking one last drag of his cigarette before standing up, tossing it on the floor, and stamping on the thing with the heel of his boot. “We should probably go home, then.” 

He held a hand out to help pull Harry from his seat on the floor. Harry took it, nodding. 

They apparated home. 

If he was being honest, Draco wasn’t ready for this conversation. He doubted he ever would be. 

Distantly, he could hear his mother laughing at him. She would have told him to get a grip; this wouldn’t be the end of the world, no matter how awkward it is. 

As soon as they stepped inside, Draco made a beeline for the kitchen. He’d need a nice, strong cuppa while he gathered his words. 

He could hear Harry calling the kids to come to the living room. 

He sighed, mixing a spoonful of sugar in the dark liquid. There could have been worse things. At least he was recalcitrant. 

He entered the living room to find the children in their usual spots, with Harry sitting alone on the loveseat. Draco’s husband patted the cushion, and he went to sit down, careful not to slosh his tea when he did. 

It was silent until Draco blurted, “My father was murdered in his cell in Azkaban when I was twenty years old. He was the only one in my family that was not acquitted during his trial, and I know that was what would have happened to me if I had been in the same situation.” 

It was difficult confirming what the children had undoubtedly suspected. Draco didn’t dare meet any of their eyes. 

“I won’t go into too much detail as I’m sure you’ll learn about all this in your History of Magic class,” Draco continued. “But…” He shrugged. 

“It was a hard time for all of us,” Harry said, gently patting Draco’s knee. 

Draco nodded. “It was. Everything intensified in our sixth year. The Dark Lord had taken over the Manor, and I was forced to take the Mark. If I didn’t, he would have killed myself and my family.” 

One of the kids gasped, and Draco could feel his cheeks flush. 

He shook his head, unwilling to dwell on it lest he panic, then faced the children. “Your mother...she is looking out for you, you know? She only wants what’s best for you, and I can’t fault her for that.” 

“No one in the family mentions it, but you lost an uncle in the War,” Harry said. “Ginny herself almost died when she was in her first year. Those kinds of experiences take a toll on you.” 

“And I’ll be the first to admit that those things were caused by me and my family’s actions,” Draco added. “I’m not proud of it; my father was the only one who bought into all that shit, but…” he shrugged. 

The kids looked shell-shocked. Draco had likely confirmed all the terrible things they had heard about him. His cheeks were burning in shame. 

James spoke up first, hesitant. “How did you cope? Were you okay?” 

Draco barked a bitter laugh, hysterical. “Oh, darling, I hadn’t been okay since my father whored me out to save his arse.” 

A pause. He could feel his face turning redder by the second. It took him a minute to realize he probably shouldn't have been so explicit. 

When Draco looked at the kids, they seemed morose. His voice softened. “No, I wasn’t okay, I -” He took a deep breath. “Before the Dark Lord came to live with us, I would sneak out and go to muggle clubs to relieve some...tension. I met a few friends there - they were the ones who got me into muggle theatre - and we had a good time. They kept me from thinking too hard about what I had done.”

Scorpius spoke up next. “What happened to them?” 

“My muggle friends?” 

The kids nodded. 

Draco sighed. This was getting even more depressing than he had anticipated. “I’m not quite sure. I....” he took a deep breath. “I stopped hanging out with all of them the day I took the Mark for their safety.” 

His son gave him a look. “Which one of them was your boyfriend?” 

Draco prickled. “I hardly see how that’s any of your business.” 

“Oh, come on, dad,” Scorpius rolled his eyes. “You wouldn’t sound so sad about your friends if you weren’t fucking at least one of them.” 

Draco gasped. “Scorpius Abraxas Malfoy. I did not raise you to use such language.” 

Harry sniggered beside him. “No, but you do use that kind of language a lot.” 

Draco elbowed his husband in the side. “That’s unimportant.” 

Scorpius scoffed. “So?” 

Draco looked between the children, affronted. They each had a curious gleam in their eyes. Lily was smiling as if she knew something he didn’t.

Draco gave a world-weary sigh. “It’s not so funny, Scorpius.” He gave his son a pointed look. “William and I had broken up a few months before everything. He was good, but we were better off as friends.” 

“What happened to him?” James asked. 

“Ah.” Draco coughed, uncomfortable. “Let’s not discuss that now.” 

Harry nudged him, questioning. 

Draco just shot his husband a look. Not now. 

He sighed, patting both his knees, then standing. “Now that we have aired out my sins, may we please disperse?” 

No one objected; everyone seemed to sense his mood. Draco hadn’t meant to make things depressing. He certainly didn’t mean to cut any of his children off. It was just difficult - exhausting, really - to discuss such things. He had hit his limit early.

God, it wasn’t even noon. 

Could he just go back to sleep and waste the day away? Would that be okay? 

Some small part of him remarked that he had the emotional intelligence of a potato. Draco ignored it. 

He sighed and pulled out his phone, walking out onto the balcony. 

Ella picked up on the third ring. “Hello?” 

Draco sighed dramatically and slumped onto the daybed. “Ella, my darling, please do kill me now before I do so myself.” 

Ella laughed, tinny through the phone speakers. “And why would I do that?” 

“Because you love me.” 

She hummed. “Not that much.” 

Draco gasped. “You bitch.” 

She laughed again. “What has you worked up this time? Did everything go well with the ex-wife?” 

“What do you think? She brought up the fucking war - which, might I add, we had not discussed with the children - and called me a fucking Death Eater in front of everyone.” 

She sucked in a breath. “Wow.” 

Draco scoffed. “You could say that.” 

“What did you do?” 

“I went to the office and chain-smoked cigarettes until my husband found me.” 

Ella chuckled dryly. “Well, that’s one way to do it.” 

“And how would you have handled it?” 

A pause. “Fair point. So I’m assuming you and Harry explained everything, then?” 

“Not exactly.” 

“Oh, Draco, come on.” 

“Ella, sweetheart, what am I supposed to say? ‘Ah, yes, I single-handedly caused the siege of Hogwarts. It was terrible; I witnessed one of my best friends die in a fire and I can still hear his screams to this day.’ Or, better yet, ‘Ah, yes, Voldemort himself tortured me so much that I’m still constantly trembling.” 

“Draco…” 

“I’m like one of those muggle rat dogs,” he interjected. “You know the ones; what are they called again? Chiwowowows? Cheetahs? Cheetos?” 

Ella laughed, somewhat hysterically. “They’re called chihuahuas, Draco.” 

“Ah, yes, chihuahuas. Those.” He sighed, pulling a hand down over his brows. “Point is, I didn’t want to disturb them, so I didn’t go into detail.” 

“What did they say?” 

“It was sweet, actually. They asked if I was okay, and how I coped and all that.” 

“Oh,” Ella said. “Well, how did you cope?” 

“I went clubbing, naturally. Got fucked in an alleyway a few times; did a few things my mother would have been appalled at had she known what they were. All that good stuff.” 

“Jesus, Draco.” 

“Ah, yes, I did hear that a lot.” 

She chuckled. “That’s depressing as hell.” 

“Honey, that whole time was depressing as hell.” 

There was a lull in the conversation. 

Finally, Draco heard Ella sigh and ask, “Are you okay, Draco?” 

He was silent for a minute, mulling over the words. “Not really, darling. I’ll be fine though.” 

“See that you are, okay?” 

Draco laughed a soft, bitter thing. “I will.” He sighed. “So, anything new in your life?” 

Ella laughed and Draco smiled to himself. He loved the girl like family, and he didn’t know what he would do without her. 

Ella babbled on about some new boyfriend she had, and Draco was happy that at least her life was so simple. While he was not that old, listening to her tales about her mundane life made him feel young in a way he never had. He tried not to pity himself too much for it - that his childhood was ripped away in the face of a racist megalomaniac. 

Ugh, he was becoming depressing in his old age. 

Eventually, Ella ended the call and Draco went back inside. The kids were out, probably to give himself and Harry some time to talk. 

He found his husband brooding on the sofa. “What’s got your knickers in a bunch?” 

Harry shot him a mild glare, then sighed. “The kids have extendable ears, you know.” 

Draco blinked, sitting on the couch next to Harry. “I don’t understand.” 

Harry gently grabbed Draco’s hand and cradled it close. He took a deep breath. “You were...kind of brutal, honestly, when you were on the phone with Ella just then.” 

It was so silent in the room, Draco could hear a faraway muggle ambulance. Then it dawned on him. “Oh, fuck.” 

Harry just rubbed over Draco’s knuckles with his thumb. “That about sums it up, yeah.” He shot Draco a conspiratory grin. “A chihuahua, huh?” 

Draco shook his head, shocked. “Fuck. What do I do?” 

“I dunno, love. That’s up to you.” 

He looked at Harry, pleading. “They weren’t supposed to know.” 

“I know,” Harry replied, pulling Draco into his arms. 

Somewhere, someone was having a very long laugh at this. Maybe this was karma, finally coming for him after all these years.

Could he please just crawl in a hole and die? Would that be okay? He sighed. Maybe he’d do that if he didn’t have a husband and kids. 

When he said as much, Harry laughed. “Glad to know I’m holding you back.” 

Draco glared at him. “It’s not funny.” 

Harry stifled a smile. “It’s a little funny.” 

Draco groaned, pushing his face into his hands. “Can we just not talk about things? My family has done that for generations and I turned out fine.” 

Harry didn’t bother to smother his chuckles this time. “Yes, dear.” 

“I’m serious, Harry,” Draco turned his face to pout at his husband. “This weekend has been...” He trailed off, shaking his head. 

Harry sucked in a breath. “I doubt it’ll get any better. I told Ginny I’d meet her for coffee tomorrow to discuss everything away from the kids.” 

Draco sighed and sat up. “Fuck.” 

“Maybe it’ll be better now that she’s had time to process it.” 

“Oh, I doubt it. I remember the aftermath of the fights you would get into before you two were divorced. I think your exact words were that ‘she could hold grudges better than Snape himself.’” 

Harry just huffed. “Fuck.”

Draco hummed. “Fuck indeed. Speaking of fucking,” he said, and Harry laughed.

Draco grinned. “Speaking of fucking,” he continued. “Did the kids actually hear me telling Ella of my, ah, whorish days?” 

“Who even says that?” Harry teased, an incredulous look on his face. 

Draco laughed, gently swatting his husband’s chest. “I do. Now, answer my question.” 

Harry gave him a fond but strained smile. “Yeah, they did. Scorpius flushed scarlet.” 

Draco winced. “Poor thing. He inherited my blush, unfortunately.” 

His husband chuckled. “That’s what you’re worried about?” 

“Well, the kids all know where they came from. Jamie’s getting to that age, himself.” 

Harry made a face. “Did you have to say that?” 

Laughing, Draco replied, “My money’s on him pursuing Teddy. If Teddy could get over their age difference, that is.” 

“Christ, Draco.” 

“Or not,” Draco mused. “I have heard him talking about some seventh-year boy, before.” 

“Do you have any shame?” 

Draco paused, giving his husband a conspiratory look. “Last I recall, you love my lack of shame.” 

Harry looked like he couldn’t decide whether to laugh or cry at that. “Please, Draco.” 

Draco sighed, frowning a bit. “Sorry, love.” 

Harry shrugged, sheepish. “It’s fine. Are you okay?” 

“Oh, I’m just dandy. My children heard about my - rather unsafe, might I add - teenage sex life. What could ever be wrong?” 

“So that’s what this is about.” 

He glared at his husband, tiredly. “Of course it is, Harry.” 

Harry sighed and scooted closer to Draco, wrapping an arm around his shoulders in comfort. “Nobody was mad at you.” 

Draco scoffed, burying his head into his husband’s chest. “I should hope not. They weren’t even a twinkle in my eye at that time in my life.” He paused, then murmured. “I just don’t want to embarrass them. It’s a tragic tale, anyway.” 

Harry plopped a kiss on the top of Draco’s head. “What happened?” 

He sighed. “I broke up with William maybe two months before the Dark Lord took over the Manor. We remained friends - he introduced us all to his new partner a few weeks later; but...the day I said I couldn’t see them anymore, Will announced he was diagnosed with AIDS.” 

Harry sucked in a breath. 

“Yeah,” Draco said bitterly. “Naturally, I felt like an ass. Stupid, too - I was relatively safe with all the men I had been with, but…” 

“I’m so sorry, Draco,” Harry said. 

He shrugged, ignoring the burning in the back of his eyes. “I was so reckless then, Harry.” 

“It’s okay.” 

Draco shook his head. “It’s really not.” He sighed. “I don’t...It’s not that I don’t want the children to know. I do; I just would have told them much, much later.” 

Harry combed his fingers through Draco’s hair and placed another kiss atop his head. “Are you ashamed of it?” 

Draco scoffed. “Of course I am. Don’t ask stupid questions, Potter.” 

Harry hummed. “You shouldn’t be.” 

“Right.” 

“I mean it, Draco. We all did stupid shit during the war.” 

“I shouldn’t have gotten attached.” 

Harry shook his head. “It doesn’t work like that, and you know it.” 

Draco sighed. “When did we get so fucking depressing?” 

Harry didn’t answer. 

It was silent for a moment. 

Distantly, Draco realized he didn’t know where the children were. 

He’d figure that out later. 

Finally, Harry said, “I think this weekend just -” He made a vague gesture with the hand that wasn’t holding Draco. “It had to happen eventually - the whole Ginny thing, that is. I just don’t think any of us were prepared for it.” 

“I was prepared for it.” 

Harry shook his head. “No, you weren’t. You braced yourself for it; there’s a difference.” 

Draco sighed. He’d been doing that a lot this weekend. “Remember when we first got together, and you said you’d always be by my side?” 

He could feel Harry smile. “And you said you wanted a boyfriend, not a barnacle.” 

God, that had to have been their third or fourth date. Draco had never had a serious relationship before Harry, and he remembered being mildly terrified when the other man had said that. 

Draco laughed. “I’ve changed my mind. I’m so glad you’ve been here.” 

“Me too.” 

“I wouldn’t change it for the world,” Draco continued. He didn’t care if he was being sappy or redundant. “Crazy bitch ex-wife and all.” 

Harry kissed the top of Draco’s head, then teased, “Slutty past and all.” 

Draco gasped. “I’ll have you know that was a very hard time in my life!” 

His husband laughed. 

Draco playfully pouted, leaning away from Harry’s embrace. 

Harry followed him, grinning. “Oh, Draco, I’m sorry. I’ll take it back for a kiss.” 

Draco gasped, standing up in one swift motion. “No, I’m too hurt.” 

Harry stood up too, slowly walking towards Draco like a wildcat. “Oh, really?” 

Draco bolted, laughing all the while. 

It was like flipping a light switch, he thought. He could talk to Harry about anything, and there would be no judgment.

God, Draco loved him. 

They chased each other around the house like children, giggling like fools. 

Draco didn’t know where his children were, although he knew they had probably left so that he and their father could have some privacy. The kids were perceptive like that; at least, Scorpius was. 

When the kids did return, it was late. 

Harry and Draco were seated on the sofa, debating whether or not to get Chinese or Curry. 

Scorpius walked in first, and Draco broke from the conversation to give his son a long look. “Well, don’t you look like you’re having fun. Where have you been?” 

Scorpius grinned. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” 

Draco glanced at Harry sitting beside him. “He gets this from you.” He turned back to his son. “Where is everyone else?” 

At this, Scorpius looked sheepish. “They are still outside.” 

Draco blinked. “Why on Earth would they still be outside?” 

“Well…” Scorpius looked to the floor, fiddling with his fingers. 

Draco wanted to cry. 

Finally, his son sighed. “You should come and see for yourself.” 

Draco looked at Harry, curious. His husband just shrugged. 

He sighed, and stood up, dragging Harry with him. 

This was odd. Scorpius had always been cunning - he inherited that from Draco - but he was never likely to carry anything out. If anything, he came up with schemes and had someone else execute them so that he wouldn’t have to take the fall.   
The thing is: Scorpius always told Draco of his plans. 

It made Draco nervous. 

Scorpius led him and Harry through the front door and into their little front lawn, where they found the rest of the kids huddled around someone. 

Draco saw the red hair and turned around, walking back towards the door. 

“Draco-” Harry called, and Draco whipped around. 

“I don’t wish to see her right now, Harry,” he hissed, pleading. “I’m in a fairly good mood and I don’t want that ruined.” 

Harry’s eyes turned sorrowful. He nodded. 

As soon as he reached the threshold, though, he heard a feminine voice call, “Malfoy.” 

Suspicious, he turned around, crossing his arms across his chest like a petulant child. He raised an eyebrow. 

“I’m sorry,” Ginny said. 

Draco was silent, watching her. 

Well. At least she looked remorseful. 

“It was...inappropriate of me to call you out like that,” she continued. 

He nodded stiffly. “It was.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

Draco rolled his eyes. “I’m sure you are.” 

“Can we talk?” 

Draco didn’t answer. What was Ginny’s game here? What was she trying to do? He knew she wanted to see the kids more, but she had always hated him. 

He sighed, looking at the kids. They were watching in rapture as if it was a high-stakes tennis tournament. 

He looked at Harry, who just seemed sad and a little wary. He hated seeing that expression on his husband’s face; he never wanted to be the cause of it. 

Draco sighed. “Fine.” He turned around and walked into the house. 

Before he went to find Ginny in the living room, he went to find the half-empty package of cigarettes laying on top of the case that held his pipes. 

He lit one in the hallway and took a deep drag, disregarding the fact he was indoors. 

He found Ginny sitting awkwardly on one of the overstuffed armchairs. “Want a smoke?” He held out the carton. 

“No, thank you.” 

Draco nodded, perching on the edge of the sofa. 

“I didn’t know you smoke,” she remarked. 

Draco wrinkled his nose. “I usually prefer a pipe.” 

“Oh.” 

He hummed, staring at her. Finally, he sighed. “I remember seeing you at the trials, you know.” 

She looked at him, questioning. 

He nodded, taking another drag. “You were wearing the ugliest mauve slip dress, and you shook your head when Harry took the stand in my defense.” 

“You remember what I was wearing?” Ginny asked, bewildered. 

Draco scoffed. “Obviously. You looked like a fucking ghost; that was how much it washed you out. There are few very specific shades of pink redheads can wear and that was not one of them.” 

“Oh.” 

“Yeah,” Draco said, taking another drag. “Of course, we all looked like specters back then. I was white as a sheet, myself, but I chalked that up to my complexion.” He winked at her conspiratorially. 

He didn’t think Ginny knew what to say. She just stared at him, opening and closing her mouth like a fish. 

He sighed, blowing smoke through his nose. “What do you want, Ginevra?” 

She tensed. “Albus said I should make things right.” 

At that, Draco laughed. “That boy is too righteous for his own good. You hate me, and rightly so.” 

“I don’t - I don’t hate you.: 

“And I’m the Queen,” he scoffed. “Don’t lie, Genevra. It’s unbecoming.” 

“I don’t! I mean it.” 

Draco peered at her. She seemed genuine. “Well, I’ll be. What changed?” 

“James said it’s been over twenty years; we’re different people now.” 

Draco nodded. “Oh, I’m sure. When I knew you, you trailed after Harry like a lovesick puppy. Now, you can’t be bothered to give us a week’s notice of a single visit.” 

She looked ashamed. He tried not to feel too good about it. 

“That was impolite of me,” she said. 

“Oh, most definitely,” Draco agreed. “But,” he continued. “What was even more impolite was you bringing up something that happened over twenty years ago - something I had not yet discussed with the children.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

He huffed out a smoky breath. “We all lost somebody, Ginny,” he said softly. “Your own mother killed my Aunt Bella. I mean, she deserved it; she was a right bitch, but my point still stands.” 

Ginny chuckled, looking on the verge of tears. 

Draco took another drag. “I could name dozens of people I’ve lost as a result of the war. I’ve realized that my actions were wrong, and I’ve atoned for them all I can. You don’t have the moral high ground here. Neither of us does.” 

“What do you want me to say?” she asked, contrite.

Draco shook his head. “You don’t have to say anything.” 

They both sighed. 

Finally, Ginny said, “I requested to meet you and Harry so I could ask if I could rebuild my relationship with the kids.” 

“Why now?”

Ginny paused, looking pensive. Draco didn’t think she knew how to answer. 

“Look, Ginny,” he said, taking another drag of his cigarette before leaning forward and flicking the ash into an abandoned mug resting on the coffee table. “It’s not our choice whether or not you get a relationship with the kids. Harry and I can try and protect them all we want, but if they want to see you, they will.” 

Affronted, she replied, “Why would they need protection from me? I’m their mother.” 

Draco sighed. “You may be the woman who birthed them, but you have no relationship with them.” 

Ginny gasped. “Your son has no relationship with his mother.” 

Draco rolled his eyes. “That’s because she’s dead.” 

Her jaw dropped. 

“Please do close your mouth,” he said. “You’ll catch flies.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

Draco harrumphed.. “It’s nothing I could help, and it was a long time ago.” 

There was an awkward silence after that.

Distantly, Draco concluded that Harry had probably taken the kids somewhere so that they wouldn’t be bothered. It was probably for the best, given what had happened that morning. 

He sighed. “Anyways, it’s not my decision. You have a right to see your children, obviously, but only on their terms.” 

Ginny nodded. 

Draco studied her body language in an attempt to gain some insight into what she was thinking. 

She was hunched over her purse, clutching it to her chest in a vice. Ginny looked to be on the verge of tears, upset. 

Draco didn’t know what he’d do if she started crying. 

“I think I’ll talk to them,” she said, taking a deep breath. 

Draco put the cigarette between his lips once more, nodding. “Fair enough.” He exhaled. 

“I’ll leave, now.” Ginny stood up. 

He nodded. “I’ll walk you out.” 

After she left, Draco shook his head to himself. That whole conversation was stilted, more awkward than his last interactions with his father. 

At least she wanted to build a relationship with them, he thought. Whether the kids wanted to take her up on that offer was still up for deliberation. 

Draco sighed, pulling out his phone to call Harry. 

His husband picked up on the first ring. “Did everything go okay?” 

Draco nodded, then realized Harry couldn’t see him. “It went as well as it could have.” 

Harry hummed through the speaker. 

“Where are you?” 

“We’re waiting at Fortescue’s, but now you’re done, I suppose we’ll come home. Do you want us to pick up curry or something on the way?” 

Draco sighed, stepping out onto the balcony. He snuffed out his cigarette in the ashtray in front of the daybed before saying, “Sure.” 

“Okay, cool. You alright?” 

“Surprisingly, yes. I mean, it was awkward as hell - I don’t think she knew how to interact with me.” 

He could hear his husband sigh. “Nobody does these days.” 

Draco stepped back inside and headed for his and Harry’s bedroom. “Nobody expects me to be a camp old stage manager,” he agreed. 

Harry laughed. “I think Parkinson might’ve done.” 

Draco sighed to himself at that. He and Pansy used to be close, but after the war, she had fucked off to Europe to marry some rich pureblood Frenchman. They hadn’t talked much since, although they did occasionally meet up if either of them were in town. 

He shook his head. “Maybe. Astoria had her suspicions; I know that much.” 

Harry hummed, sounding distracted. “We can argue that later. I’ll see you when I get home.” 

“Alright. Love you.” 

“Love you, too.” 

They hung up, and Draco sighed to himself. He sat on the bed and pulled out his book.   
Draco liked to read. His mother made him learn at a very young age, and it was a wonderful skill to have when he was younger and he needed to flee from the megalomaniac living in his house. With books, he could escape to new worlds where he didn’t have to be himself. He liked how characters in books were normal, how they led mundane lives with only a few menial problems. 

But he couldn’t concentrate. Not now. For once in his life, he couldn’t compartmentalize what had happened in the real world and focus on the fictional. 

There was no doubt in his mind that he would have a nightmare that night. 

It was too much. The whole thing with Ginny was too much for his tastes. It brought back too many memories.

There was a reason he rarely interacted with the wizarding world. Aside from how he was one of the most disgraced wizards of his time, he didn’t like how every little thing reminded him of the war. It was why Harry took the kids to Diagon every year before school; why Draco had most of the magical things he needed delivered to them by owl.

He was thankful Harry understood his hangups when it came to the wizarding world; how Harry met him halfway. 

Draco heard the front door slam open, and five boisterous voices echoing in the hallway. He smiled to himself. 

At the very least, he had his family. At this point, that was all he could really ask for. He said as much later that night, when the kids were all in their rooms and Draco and Harry were cuddling on the couch, sharing a bottle of wine and decompressing. 

Harry sighed and kissed the crown of Draco’s head. “We all love you, Draco.” 

Draco nodded. “I know.” 

“Do you?” 

Draco angled his head up from where it rested on his husband’s shoulder. He frowned. “I do.” 

Harry took a breath. “Good.” 

“I don’t want to…” Draco started, then sighed. “I don’t want to have to discuss what I did with the children when I’ll be painted the villain when they learn about the war in school. This wasn’t the plan, Harry. I thought we would have more time.” 

Harry kissed his head again. “Maybe it’s for the best. We don’t have to discuss everything right now - not when this is still so fresh, but at least they’ll have an inkling as to what to expect.” 

“I still want to wait until they are all older.” 

“I know.” 

“It’s just embarrassing, you know?” Draco pushed away from Harry’s embrace in order to look his husband in the eye. “And it’s - I don’t know how to articulate everything, and my story - our story - is very sad.” 

“But,” Harry interjected. “It has a happy ending.” 

And Harry was smiling that one smile that made Draco weak in the knees, the smile that was soft and happy and meant only for him. “You sap,” Draco accused. 

Harry grinned and leaned in for a kiss. “Only for you.” 

When it all came down to it, Draco supposed, everything would resolve eventually. They still had to talk to the children about Draco’s past and his part in everything, but that didn’t matter. Not here. 

Harry’s hands were soft when they cupped Draco’s face and he tasted of wine. He cradled Draco’s cheeks with such care that Draco forgot all of his worries. In the end, he decided, if he had this, all would be well.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading!!


End file.
